


Going At It

by abnosomesouls



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Arguing, Castiel and Dean Winchester Being Idiots, Fluff, M/M, Making Up, Not Beta Read, Sam and Bobby are the peanut gallery, Silly, omg I love that that's an actual tag, store clerks named Josh are assholes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 20:45:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3704423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abnosomesouls/pseuds/abnosomesouls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dean is a jackass, Castiel is hanging onto his patience by a thread, Sam maintains a safe distance, and Bobby thinks they’re all idiots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Going At It

**Author's Note:**

> This is goofy, but it's been sitting around taking up space on my computer for a seriously long time, so I figured what the hell, I'll post it anyway. Plus none of the other things I'm working on are close to being done *sad* and I felt like posting something, so here you go!

 

Bobby looks up from his demonology text as the front door bangs open and shut, scowling at Sam as he tears into the library.

“How many times do I have to tell you boys not to slam the damn door?” he grouses. Damn kids never seemed to learn.

“Sorry Bobby,” Sam replies unconvincingly, sinking onto the couch across from Bobby’s desk with the relieved air of an escaped prisoner. “I was trying to get away before the hair-pulling starts.” He makes a moue of distaste and jerks a thumb back toward where Dean and Castiel have disappeared out of sight in the kitchen, at the moment ominously quiet.

Bobby just looks exasperated. “They going at it again?”

Ever since Dean and Castiel started ‘officially’ dating, they’d bickered as often as they cuddled, veering between a level of annoying that made Sam want to tear his carefully maintained hair out and so disgustingly sweet that he simultaneously smiled in happiness for his brother while fighting down the urge to vomit; either way, the rest of their little family was getting good and sick of having a front-row seat to their romance-novel relationship. For a guy so adamantly opposed to experiencing chick-flick moments, Dean didn’t seem to be aware he was living one.

“Yeah, there was a thing at the store.”

“You gotta be kiddin’ me. All you idjits had to do was pick up some more spray paint so we can finish those devil’s traps. How hard is that?”

“Tell me about it. I swear Dean must be on the rag or something because he—” Sam breaks off as voices can suddenly be heard in the kitchen.

“You realize of course we still have to return to the store because you failed to actually purchase the spray paint after all of that.” Castiel’s carefully even voice only contains a hint of reproach, and it’s obvious even from the other room that he’s trying very hard to stay calm.

Dean, however, has no such compunction.

“No way are we going back to that store! The people who work there are total douchebags.” Dean’s tone is sour, his belligerence nearly palpable. “Besides, it’s your fault we didn’t get the fucking spray paint in the first place, so why don’t you just angel-mojo some for us instead?”

“How is it possibly my fault that you did not accomplish your task? I did not impede you in any manner.”

“Yes you did, you distracted me because you just couldn’t stop yourself from flirting with the checkout guy for five goddamn minutes!”

Dean’s bitter jealousy is mesmerizing. Sam and Bobby are still staring at the doorway, unable to see the fighting couple but listening intently. It’s not exactly hard; those two idiots are _loud_.

Cas sounds indignant. “I was not ‘flirting’ with that man,” he defends, and Sam can practically hear the air quotes. “I was simply asking him for directions to the correct aisle and _employing human manners_ , something you seem to disregard at every opportunity.”

Sam grins. _Score one for Cas_ , he thinks, enjoying the combination of fighting and scolding. Castiel seems to have honed it to a fine art in the months he’s been with Dean.

“Screw manners Cas, we’re together now and I don’t know what the fuck goes on in Heaven but here on Earth you just don’t flirt with random guys! Especially guys who wear _vests_ with _flair_.” If Dean sneered any more disdainfully he was going to strain something.

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘flair’ but based on the other employees’ modes of dress I believe Josh was wearing the required uniform.”

“Oh, so it’s Josh now?! I can’t friggin’ believe—”

“Besides which,” Castiel says louder, talking over Dean and cutting off his next mocking comment, “I still do not believe he was flirting with me. And even if he was, that is no fault of mine. You’re the proponent of free will, Dean; how am I supposed to prevent any other person from attempting to speak with me if they so wish? I believe in this instance you need to, as you tell Sam, get over yourself.”

Even Bobby chuckles at that. Cas 2, Dean 0. _Take that, jerk_.

“Maybe you can’t prevent someone from trying to hit on you but you don’t have to encourage it.” Okay, that sounded semi-reasonable. Maybe Dean was going to surprise them all with a well-founded argument.

“What did I possibly do to encourage him?”

“You looked at him!”

Or maybe he was just going to sound like a jackass. As usual.

Sam pictures the utter confusion on Castiel’s face. “I looked at him?” he parrots. “How?”

“With your eyes, Cas, you looked at him with your eyes.”

Castiel heaves a long-suffering sigh as if wondering why he even bothers to put up with this—Sam is beginning to wonder that very same thing himself—and snaps, “How else should I have looked at him Dean, with my ears?”

Bobby raises his eyebrows at Sam who mirrors the look and nods approvingly, both of them impressed with Castiel’s rapidly developing smartassery. He’s coming along nicely.

“Don’t you get sarcastic with me, I taught you sarcasm,” Dean snarks.

“Fine Dean,” Castiel sounds put-upon, “since I apparently can’t look at anyone with my eyes, what do you expect me to do about it now?”

“Well for starters you need to stop looking like that. You can’t just expect to walk around looking like that all the time and not get hit on everywhere you go, even you can’t be that oblivious.”

What?

Okay, even Sam’s confused by that one. Cas literally has one outfit and it’s not even that great. What the angel’s weird attachment is to that shapeless trench coat, Sam will never know. He’s just glad that so far—fingers crossed—no one’s mistaken him for a flasher and called the cops. Wouldn’t that be just what they need.

And what’s the guy supposed to do, switch vessels? That doesn’t really seem like a viable option, since he’s pretty sure that one is Cas’s for good at this point, and this whole conversation is turning so ridiculous that Sam can’t believe he and Bobby are both still listening, but here they are, unable to look away. It’s like listening to a train wreck happening right across the hall. Or a boy band.

Said angel is really irritated now and it seems Dean’s sorely trying his last nerve. “Looking like what Dean, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he growls warningly.

But Dean’s worked himself up to actually being pissed off now and full on yells, “I’m talking about your whole stupid look! I’m talking about your stupid perpetual bedhead and your stupid sexy mouth and your stupid hot stubble—really dude, how hard is it to mojo yourself a shave, Jesus. And most of all I’m talking about your stupid, just-rolled-out-of-bed-after-a-wild-weekend-orgy-rumpled look! If I didn’t know any better I’d swear you do it on purpose, I mean come on, how is anyone supposed to look at all that and think of anything but sex?” _And_ , it just got uncomfortable. “Oh shit, you are doing it on purpose, aren’t you? Don’t give me the smitey face, you’re trying to make me jealous.” Dean sounds horrified and accusatory by his sudden epiphany.

Also, completely insane. “What, did you see an article in Cosmo or something? Doesn’t matter though, because I’m on to you now you sneaky bastard. You’re never going out in public without me again, and I will personally make sure you look as hideous as possible so no asshole clerks will hit on you and you will not be able to make me jealous.” Dean is triumphant, having turned the tables and foiled Castiel’s evil master plan to trick him into having feelings. “What now, huh?” he asks smugly.

Bobby has ceased to be amused and just looks disgusted that he had any hand in shaping Dean’s life. Sam, for his part, is incredulous. How is this eighth grade girl his older brother? Surely Sam deserves better than this.

He’s torn, by equally strong twin urges to either laugh hysterically or to facepalm hard enough to give himself a black eye.

He’s still deciding which when Castiel verbally (and probably physically, who knows if he’s picked up that particular mannerism yet) throws up his hands. “You are impossible Dean, I don’t know why I even argue with you. No matter how many millennia I spend on Earth I will never understand how my Father can have created a race of beings capable of such great intelligence yet so completely unreasonable within the confines of a romantic relationship.”

“Unreasonable?” Dean retorts. “There is nothing unreasonable about me being possessive of my hot boyfriend and if the dickhead at the hardware store doesn’t keep his skeevy eyes to himself then he’s asking to get punched in the face and you can’t really blame me for that.”

“Maybe he didn’t think we were together, Dean,” Cas says almost tiredly.

Dean scoffs at that bit of naiveté. “How could he not know we were together? Hell, how could _anyone_ not know? We practically walk around with the words _Hey we’re in love over here, assholes_ flashing above our heads in bright neon lights. No, he was just a fuckwad.”

Castiel is suddenly quiet, and stillness emanates from the kitchen. Sam and Bobby are equally silent in the library, a strange tension in the air as if the house itself is anticipating the angel’s response.

“What did you say?” Castiel asks carefully.

“I said Josh is a fuckwad,” Dean enunciates, “and no I’m not going to apologize for calling him that.”

Castiel’s voice is soft. “No, after that. You said we’re in love. Are we, Dean?”

Knocked off his rant, Dean reassures his angel, albeit in a slightly annoying _isn’t-it-obvious_ tone of voice. “Of course we are Cas, what did you think this was?”

“You’ve never said it out loud before. I thought so, I mean I’d hoped, but…” he trails off, sounding suddenly embarrassed.

Dean must move closer because his voice is low and sure, and Sam creeps to the edge of his seat, straining to hear. He’d have bet money Dean would never say the words aloud. “Well, I’m saying it now. I love you, Cas. I have for a long time. You’re it for me.”

It’s indistinct, but Sam thinks he makes out an “I love you too Dean,” before their ridiculous shouting match completely gives way to a few soft murmurs before going suspiciously silent once more. A minute later the silence is broken by a soft, drawn-out moan and a wet, sucking sound, and suddenly there’s a flash of two bodies rushing past the library and two sets of footsteps pounding eagerly up the creaky stairs, ending with a door slamming somewhere above their heads. Any entertainment value to be gleaned from the latest episode of Morons in Love has vanished in a wave of distaste and Sam is back to looking grossed out, Bobby scowling and grunting at his book.

After a minute in which blessedly, there are no more noises from upstairs, Sam turns to Bobby and asks, “You ever feel like we’re the sidekicks on the Dean and Cas show, and we’re just here to give them sage advice and provide witty background banter?”

Bobby just looks at Sam like he can’t believe this is even his life, dealing with the three of them on top of running herd on a country full of pain-in-the-ass hunters. “Idjits,” he mutters to himself, and turns back to his book without answering.

 


End file.
